


Wingman

by ShahHira



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Halloween, M/M, Short Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-27 23:56:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5069860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShahHira/pseuds/ShahHira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark rescues someone and gets more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two New Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Another story, so soon? Wow, I think I'm getting better at this!
> 
> I'm a bit iffy on the title but I don't want to spoil the story because it'll make sense in the end. This will be only a few chapters long, but it'll be a cute one. I'm mostly practicing with different types of storytelling, whether it's changing the tense from past to present (which is what I did with Cookie Monster), or doing something completely out there - which I may try and do someday.
> 
> Credit for the idea and inspiration goes to... I can't find the picture. I even commented on it BUT! It was on Tumblr and I tried my best to find it: it's a pic of Jack in a green septic tank and Mark looking on with tears in his eyes. The premise is a bit different but it was inspired on that.

One, two, three. And he’s in.

Mark’s training kicks in and he’s focused, face set in blank concentration as he points his silencer into the murky blackness. He deftly shuts the heavy metal door behind him with his foot, eyes darting from side to side in a practiced scan. Crouching, his footfalls are muffled under his standard issue boots. It’s cold. It’s really cold in here.

Mark moves forward, senses on high alert. A green glow emanates from down the hall. There. It’s gotta be in there.

Carefully he pushes open the door, peeking into the room. The sickly glow practically radiates from here, its intensity making Mark squint. There’s nobody inside. Good.

He steps in and shuts the door, relaxing just a fraction. The sounds of mechanical beeps and clicks reach his ears. An array of test tubes and flasks lay haphazardly on long stainless-steel tables. A laboratory. Mark ignores it all, instead focusing on the giant phosphorescent green tube looming in the middle of the room.

He was briefed on the situation beforehand, but seeing it in person leaves Mark quite impressed. Shining bright, its humongous size fascinates Mark and he takes a moment to appreciate the handiwork. Countless tangles of wires and pumps snake out around to the walls, all connecting to the tube. Lines of monitors cover the walls, underneath which are an equal amount of computer terminals. But the thing that captures his attention is the man inside.

Well, it’s got to be at least a man younger than him, given his lanky figure and the scrawny state of his muscles. Inside, the man floats, suspended in the phosphorescent green liquid. Additional tubes attached to various points on the man’s body make him look like a freak of nature. He seems to be asleep.

“Whoa.” Must be an important science project. Mark hasn’t seen something as Sci-Fi as _this_ in his long-ass career. He’s a sucker for this type of stuff.

Then Mark shakes his head, refocusing at the task at hand. There’s a plaque: _Subject 3: Jack_. Yup. This is definitely the target.

Mark strides over to the terminal, systematically searching the numerous buttons for any sign of a release mechanism. He finds and presses it, allowing a lever to pop out. The corresponding screen flashes _Authorization required,_ followed by a series of blank dashes. Smirking cockily, Mark fishes out the ID card he snatched up from the desk of some big-name official and types it out. _This should do it._ He pulls the lever down.

Suddenly, a hiss comes from behind him and he whirls. Streams of gray mist shoot out from the edges of the giant tube. Slowly, the glow starts to fade until it becomes a dull green, the liquid filtering out from some unseen pump. No alarms sound. So far, so good.

Mark waits, vigilant. The glass casing starts to slide down. He calmly walks up to the tube with calculated caution. Fog billows around him and he waves an impatient hand to try and disperse it.

Then, out of the smoke he hears a bodily thump, followed by a retching noise. Mark rushes towards it; it’s easy enough to pinpoint with all the phlegm-filled coughing. Sure enough, he finds the outline of a body through the smoke and he kneels, putting a hand on the clammy back. “Sir? Are you alright?” The words come out practiced, with a measured amount of concern.

In response, he gets more sickening sounds of stuff hitting the ground and the smell hits Mark. He wrinkles his nose. However, now’s not a time to be caring for petty things like that. “Sir, we’re here to rescue you. We need to get out of here as soon as possible.” Mark begins to lift up the man – Jack, Mark supposes he’ll call him that for now – and almost stumbles at the imbalance, bumping into the terminal at his back. Jack is barely standing straight on his feet.

Mark grumbles, slightly annoyed. “I’d very much like to get out of here, as I think you would be too,” he regains his footing, “but if you can’t walk, I’m going to have to carry you out of here–”

“No!” A sudden, gargling outburst sounds from Jack, and he pushes Mark back with surprising force, causing him to crash soundly into the metal wall, though it only stuns him more than anything. For being such a scrawny person, the man could certainly throw his weight around.

Mark hisses out tightly, “Sir, we need to be _quiet_ otherwise we’re going to get caught.” What is wrong with this guy? Does he want to stay inside a giant, human-sized test tube? He pushes off the wall and straightens his uniform, studying the hunched-over man in front of him. There’s a line of shocking green vomit dribbling down from his parted lips, but the shock of green hair catches Mark’s eye and he snorts in amusement. Was dyeing his hair part of this whole crazy experiment too?

“S…” A sound rasps out from Jack and he furiously points to his left eye. Mark’s gaze falls to Jack’s face… and raises his eyebrows in surprise when he locks eyes with him.

Or more aptly, locks one eye.

Mark only gets to see a short glimpse of the hallow cavity where his left eyeball should be before the eyelid hangs down loosely over it. Jack coughs harshly. This time he seems to be in pain. But again he points to his eye, “S…S…”

“What is it?” Mark asks, morbidly curious.

Breathing laboriously, Jack suddenly turns around and with surprising speed stumbles over to the other side of the laboratory. Mark watches him practically collapse over the terminal, thin fingers quickly flitting over the keys. Gawking at the sight, he slowly walks over behind Jack. He watches him go through a series of computer prompts on-screen until a beep sounds. Then, a small table slides up from a hidden compartment. It holds two things: a skinny test tube gleaming with that same bright green glow with a floating ball inside it, and a plain black eye patch.

A squeak of delight comes from Jack and he snatches up the two items, unscrewing the test tube. With shaking hands, he pours out the contents onto his hand, the liquid running down his hand until the ball is in his palm. Confused, Mark takes a closer look. No, it’s definitely not a regular ball…

Before he can be sure though, Jack turns away and brings his face down to his hands, fingers doing… something. Whatever it is, it only takes a second before he’s done and puts the eye patch on the same eye. However, he starts to sway and wobble on his feet, unsteady. Mark acts quickly, wrapping a secure arm around the gaunt body. “Take it easy sir,” Mark takes charge. “Now, I hope there are no more objections, because we are getting out of here.” He heaves him up, setting him in a fireman carry.

It was settled. This guy is just too intriguing to pass up. A crafty smile curls up his lips.

This is going to be interesting.


	2. Baby Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark meets the new guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang, that was a quick update. It only took 5 days!
> 
> Speaking of 5, this should turn out to be 5 chapters long.

The Infirmary doors slide open as Mark steps through, gaze wandering idly around the plain room. Abstract paintings on soft white walls furnish the receptionist area. The TV chatters out the local news while a few people sit in chairs reading magazines, checking phones or otherwise occupying their time. All in all not too busy.

Mark crosses his arms and taps his foot restlessly as he stands in the middle of the room. A quick look towards the desk shows no one sitting behind it. Guess he’ll just have to let himself in.

He takes his time approaching the set of doors on the other side of the room, smoothing down his off-duty shirt. That little voice in his head keeps telling him that he’s excited. And he is. He’s really very excited. As an afterthought he checks his pockets: phone, wallet, pass card. All there. He huffs shortly. Not like he needs it. He’s got quite the reputation around these parts.

What is he doing? Just fucking go in.

He strides in before he can second-guess himself, the doors softly whirring open to the main hallway. Cool air caresses his face as he walks down the wall, arms swinging in time. The stagnant quiet is itching on Mark’s senses and he picks up the pace. Footsteps soundless on the waxed floor, he goes through the doorway at the end of the hall.

The hallway leads to the main area of the Infirmary. A little pharmacy is tucked away to the side, where numerous steel trolleys littered with all different types of medical tools sit, waiting to be used. Cots fastened to the wall line the perimeter on the other half of the room, each with its own IV drip stand. In the back is the Doctor’s office, followed by three other areas of similar layout. Curtains surround the cots for the privacy of the patient, but almost all of them are pushed back since none of them are occupied.

All except one.

Mark halts, gaze fixed on the bland curtain. He grits his teeth together. What is he thinking? The Doctor is going to kill him if she finds him here unattended. He pads over to the curtain. He could be doing other, more useful things with the precious free time he’s been given off…

But he’s so curious about this man and his predicament. One little conversation couldn’t hurt. He places a hand lightly on the curtain, fingers curled over the edge. Pulling it back, he peeks around.

Sleeping. He’s… sleeping. Just his luck. Something deflates inside Mark and he sighs, downcast. Fate is probably telling him to stop doing stupid things and just focus on his job. He might as well leave…

But he doesn’t. Before he knows it Mark quietly sneaks beside the bed, trying not to make noise. Jack’s arm is tucked under his peaceful face, chest rhythmically expanding and contracting. The bright, stark lighting from the main area is dimmed in this small, sectioned-off area, and it suits Jack’s tranquil features. A fond smile tugs at Mark’s lips. Somehow, Mark can tell that the person in front of him is much more at ease than the one from inside the tank…

Then he sees the eye patch, which is still on Jack’s left eye. For some absurd reason it strikes Mark as so out of place that it makes him laugh out loud at the odd sight. Then he immediately tenses. Did that wake Jack up?

Jack’s eyes – eye, Mark really needs to get used to saying that – flutters open, a confused expression clear on his face. Eyebrows furrowed, he places a hand on the slim mattress and pushes himself up, scrubbing at his face. Apparently it did.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…” Mark apologizes hurriedly. As soon as he speaks however, Jack head shoots up and he proceeds to sit up straight on the bed, focusing on Mark. Despite the obvious dark circles shadowing his eyes, there’s a ridiculously bright smile adorning his lips.

Still unsure, Mark backs away, saying, “You can go back to sleep, I can just leave…” Before he can finish though, Jack furiously shakes his head no, his longish hair flopping side to side. Apparently he’s okay with being woken up by random people.

Despite himself, Mark smiles at his energetic nature. He takes a step forward. “I guess if it’s okay with you… I wanted to introduce myself. My name’s Mark,” he holds out his hand. Jack reaches out to reciprocate. Small hands, but warm. “And you must be Jack.” Another vigorous head shake, this time in the positive.

Mark grins, amused. Cheery guy. “Anyway, I think you’ve figured it out by now, but I’m the one who rescued you from that lovely underground Hellhole. But you’re here now, with us. Safe and secure. So don’t worry, we got your back. Well, that is, the Agency has your back. Which includes me,” Mark points to himself and half-smiles, trying to push his self-consciousness out of the way. Jack takes it all in with a steady gaze.

Mark scratches his patchy beard. The silence drags on. Jack doesn’t seem to mind. “I like your hair,” Mark observes, pointing to the matted neon green hair. Jack beams. Then he lowers his eyes sheepishly. His hand goes to smooth it down.

Mark clears his throat. “So, I don’t know how long you’ll be here, but I–”

“I think _I_ know how long he will be here, Mark.”

Mark whirls, mentally slapping himself for not paying attention to his surroundings. His pounding heart rests at the familiar face. “Oh. Felix. There you are.”

Felix does not look happy. “I don’t recall giving you permission to come back here,” the words come clipped. “You’re lucky nobody except for him,” he points a finger at Jack, “is here, otherwise I would be getting a serious dressing down–”

“Relax buddy, it’s just me,” Mark recovers his voice, confidence back in his words. “You weren’t at the front desk, so I figured I’d let myself in. I do have the clearance after all.”

At that, Felix cools down but he still has a stern expression. “Come over here and we’ll talk.” He leads him to the back, leaving a puzzled Jack out of hearing. “I was informed on the state of the containment cell that held our good patient Jack, and I managed to piece together certain things from my examination. There are… a few things you should know about him.”

Mark chews at his cheek. “Like what?”

“It seems they didn’t intubate him correctly inside the tank. Or at all, actually,” Felix explains, giving him a pinched look. “In other words, they didn’t shove a tube down his throat for him to properly breathe while immobilized in that strange liquid, as is standard medical procedure.”

Mark wrinkles his nose. “Thanks Felix, I really needed that image in my head.”

He grins tightly. “Anything to make you uncomfortable.”

Felix continues, “Because of the abnormal properties of the environment he was in, I’m afraid he’s not allowed to speak for quite some time, depending on how fast the inside of his throat can heal. Any irritation is going to delay the healing process, and that isn’t going to be ideal for the sensitive skin.”

Mark nods slowly, until he finally puts two and two together. “Wait, so he’s _mute?_ ”

Exasperated, Felix sighs. “For the time being, yes. It’s… self-inflicted, you could say, to protect from damaging himself any further. This should only be temporary.”

“But he’s… oh, that makes so much more sense,” Pensive, Mark runs a hand through his hair, recalling how Jack didn’t speak once through his ramblings. Damn, he must’ve been annoying as fuck and Jack just had to sit through it…

“I’ve already told Jack all that I’ve told you. A good move, considering how you barged in,” Felix emphasizes curtly. “If I hadn’t…”

Mark’s hand tugs at stray strands of hair, barely registering the admittedly deserved accusation. “What about his eye?”

Felix hums thoughtfully. “Now that has been a problem. He won’t let me examine it. I could put him under, but based on his reaction… I don’t want to risk losing whatever little trust we’ve built.”

Mark remembers what he had witnessed back in the laboratory and can’t help but feel a pang of curiosity. “Is there anything else wrong with him?”

Deadpan, Felix asks, “Do you want me to cut him open and find out?”

“…No.”

“Then I can’t give you an answer,” Felix says bluntly. “Marzia and I…” Suddenly, he reddens considerably. “Shit,” he mumbles, looking down at the floor, “I mean, the _Doctor_ and I–”

Everything clicks. Mark shoots him wicked grin. “Ah-ha. Now I know why you’re so cranky today,” he wags a finger at Felix, who tries to look everywhere but at Mark. “You’re just bitter that the Doctor is ‘unavailable’ and doesn’t have time for you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Felix retorts sharply, arms rigidly crossed, though it’s not stopping the blush from getting deeper.

Unable to help himself, Mark snickers, but feels bad for his friend. “I know what’ll help keep your mind off her. The Operations guys and I are planning to play some Cards Against Humanity tonight. You wanna join in?” he asks sincerely.

Felix’s jaw works, until he slowly nods. “Wade and Bob? Yeah, those guys are cool… I’ll be there,” he confirms, meeting Mark’s eyes.

Before Mark can say anything, he adds, “You can stay here, if you want. With Jack. Just keep in mind what I told you,” he maintains and starts to walk off. Then he stops, turning around. “Sorry for…”

“It’s fine,” Mark doesn’t let him finish. He waves it off. “It happens.” Felix hesitates, then throws him a wearied but thankful smile, lab coat billowing behind.

When Mark returns to Jack, there’s no evidence that he had overheard their conversation. Rather, his head is bent over a blocky object in his hands, attention fixated on it. A familiar little tune plays and Jack abruptly slumps his shoulders, eyes screwed shut in frustration. Mark laughs. Jack looks up, aggravation apparent on his cheeks.

He goes to stand beside Jack, peeking at what is making him so angry. “‘Super Mario 2?’” Mark reads aloud, the tease in his voice obvious. Jack shoots him a glare. Suddenly, the console is thrust in Mark’s hands. He gestures boldly with his chin.

Mark is caught off-guard. Then he laughs again. “Is that a challenge, Jack?” Mark taunts, trying to get a raise out of him. Jack again jerks his chin, one corner of his mouth tilted up in defiance.

“Scoot your butt over,” Mark beckons and hops onto the cot. However, before he can get himself seated comfortably Jack moves to the back wall, legs stretched out. He thumps the barely adequate space on his left.

After a bit of thinking Mark jogs outside, coming back with a chair which he positions on his side. Throwing one leg over onto the cot, he solidly plants his free foot on the chair. “Stupid cots can only fit one person…” he grumbles as he wiggles backwards, parallel to Jack, arm squeezed into his side.

Mark soon loses track of time. As he makes it through one whole level, he continually fails on multiple levels, earning many “I-told-you-so” looks and silent but unmistakable laughter from Jack, the shaking shoulders moving against his own. With every loss the blood rushes to Mark’s cheeks so many times he fears he might have to live with that color forever; simply being a successful Agent does not translate into being good at videogames, as Jack has figured out quite early on.

It’s been quiet for some time as Mark concentrates on trying to win, until he finally snags another level. “Yes!” He punches the air, his grin wide as he throws his head back in victory. At this point, he’d get some reaction from Jack, whether it was a shove or a high-five, but he doesn’t feel either of those things.

He looks to his right to see Jack gazing upwards at his hair. There’s a look of… wonderment in his eye, Mark presumes, though he can’t figure out why. Then Jack lifts a hand, gradually bringing it forward. Staying very still, Mark feels a hand comb gently through his hair. An enormous, lop-sided smile plays on Jack’s lips.

“You… like my hair?” Mark guesses, thinking of how he complemented Jack’s own wacky hair. Jack continues smiling, and Mark realizes it’s a very stupid question. Of course he does. And even as the heat makes its way up his neck…

It feels nice. It feels really nice.

Then a beep sounds and the machine in Mark’s hands stops its humming. He rips his gaze away from Jack, stammering out, “Oh, uh… crap, where’s the charger…” He squirms off the bed, warmth abruptly ripped away from him. At some point, he had crammed both of his legs onto the cot, overlapping with Jack’s own legs; while it was a tight fit, he misses the closeness terribly.

But for now his attention is preoccupied with finding the charger and he pans his gaze over the Infirmary. “I’m surprised Felix even lent you his old Gameboy,” he directs to Jack, who scoots up into a sitting position. “Just, ah, wait here a second,” he puts it down onto the cot. Why is he so flustered? “I’m going to–”

Before he can turn back around though, a hand seizes his own. Slender fingers interlace with his. The contact freezes Mark, his breath held fast. He watches as Jack pulls in his outstretched arm, the hands resting tenderly on Jack’s chest, just above the heart. Deep gratitude shines bright in Jack’s eye, the piercing gaze cutting through Mark’s chest. A stirring Mark hasn’t felt in a while begins to brew.

After a lifetime Jack lets go, the moment passing. Blinking owlishly Mark leans back out, thoughts absolutely blank. He starts to form words, “Well, um, anyway… I think you should get to sleepin’,” he suggests carefully. Jack shakes his head stubbornly even as he yawns a great big yawn.

Mark laughs, albeit timidly. “Felix is going to be even more pissed at me if he finds out I’ve been keeping you up. He can be a little bitch, but he really is… he’s a good guy.”

Running out of words, Mark grows silent. For a brief moment, he considers the irony in that. Jack sits on the cot casually swinging his legs back and forth, looking up at Mark with a mystifying eye. As if nothing special had happened.

“Good night, buddy,” he says cool, collected. The weird sensation in his chest bubbles down, and it’s like he can think clearly again. But his feet feel like lead, reluctant to move. Of its own accord Mark’s hand climbs upwards and mirrors Jack’s gesture, lone hand resting over his heart. An effortless smile graces his lips.

For the first time in a long time, he’s found someone to look forward to.


End file.
